In This Together
by lighthouse11
Summary: When Natasha falls ill with a mystery illness, the best minds come together to try to help. But is the the timing just bad luck, or are there other forces at work?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, etc. These belong to Marvel. This is set in some wonderful time where Bucky and Natasha are together and more or less getting their happily ever after (relationship-wise, anyway).

I am also uploading this on AO3.

Please read, reply, favourite, follow and enjoy! Your patronage is very much appreciated.

* * *

Bucky paused the game as he heard the door open. He leant back on the couch and checked the time on the oven. Just past five. He smiled, put down the controller and jumped to his feet as the door opened.

"I wasn't expecting you until the early hours," he said, as Natasha dragged herself inside.

"Yeah, got the earlier flight."

Bucky walked over and hugged her. Natasha dropped her bag in the doorway and leaned into him.

"You ok?"

"Just tired," Natasha mumbled.

"When did you last sleep?"

"What day did I leave?"

"You mean last week?"

"What?"

Bucky laughed. "Go shower. There's leftover chicken and rice in the fridge from last night. I was going to have that for dinner actually, as I wasn't expecting you back. Unless you feel like pasta? Plenty of that in the freezer. And I made lasagne the other day. So that's in the freezer too. Or I can get take-out if you really want."

"Let me shower," Natasha said, "I'm all sweaty and gross and oddly motion sick."

"Eggs on toast? Fruit? I'll cut you up an apple."

"James," Natasha chuckled, "Lemme shower, ok?"

"Ok. I'm just super glad to see you."

"Me too," Natasha said, dragging her feet on her way to the bathroom. "I'll kiss you once I'm cleaned up."

Bucky grinned, and went back to the couch. He picked up the controller, sat down and finished his Mario Cart race before turning off the console. Natasha still hadn't turned the shower on. Bucky listened. He couldn't hear her faffing about either. "You ok, Nat?" He waited, but there was no answer. "Crap," he said, and pushed himself to his feet. "Hey, Natasha?" Bucky called, tapping on the bathroom door. "Nat, I'm coming in."

Natasha stood in the bathroom, gripping the sink. Her shoes and jacket were dumped on the floor. Bucky kicked them aside.

"I said I was sweaty and gross."

"Natasha, you're drenched," Bucky said. He stood Natasha up straight and pulled off her t-shirt. It was wet with sweat, and he threw it onto the pile. "Are you ill?"

Natasha shrugged, while Bucky continued to help her undress. "I'm a bit nauseous."

"Maybe it's just the bathroom lights, but you look like shit."

"Gee, thanks Buck."

Bucky was going to laugh, then he saw her face. "You're ill."

"Just tired."

"Natasha, you're burning up."

"And maybe I drank the water?"

"Aww Nat," Bucky said, "That's such a Clint-mistake."

Bucky turned the water on in the shower. "I'm keeping the water pretty cool. You're hot enough. Ah, in a feverish, quite unwell kind of way. And the, er, other way too, but…" he smiled.

Natasha smiled in return, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She stepped into the shower, and Bucky turned on the fan. "Be back in a sec," he said.

He grabbed his phone off the kitchen bench and send a quick message.

 **To: Steve Rogers ; Clint Barton**

 **Nat's home early, but a bit unwell ¯\\_(** **ツ** **)_/¯ at least she's here :)**

He pocketed his phone, not realising that he flicked the switch to silent. Bucky found clean underwear and pyjamas for Natasha and returned to the bathroom. Natasha stood in the shower with one hand against the wall to support herself.

"Where were you," Bucky asked. "Indonesia? Thailand?"

"What?" Natasha asked.

"Where were you that the water was unsafe? Didn't you have purifying tablets?"

"Umm…?"

Bucky pulled off his t-shirt, opened the shower door, pumped shampoo into his hands and began washing Natasha's hair. "Vietnam?"

"No, not…"

"South America somewhere? The Caribbean? Africa? I know you've got a stomach of steel, but you've still got to be careful. Lean your head back so I can rinse your hair."

Natasha did as she was told, and Bucky washed the shampoo from her hair, before pumping conditioner into his hands and starting the process again.

"Germany," Natasha said.

"What?"

"I - was in Germany."

Bucky massaged her head. "The water's safe in Germany."

Natasha looked up at him. Bucky felt his stomach drop. "Anywhere else?"

"Turin. Few days in Switzerland. Few days in… is Genova a place?"

"Genoa or Geneva?"

"No, it's different. The one in France…"

"Whatever," Bucky said.

"And then Germany."

"Rinse," Bucky said, and Natasha tipped her head back. He finished washing the conditioner out, and quickly washed her body with soap. Even in the lukewarm shower, she felt hot. "Why did you say you drank dirty water if you weren't even in a part of the world where that's an issue?" he asked.

"I don't know," Natasha mumbled, trying to focus her eyes and look at him. "I - don't feel well."

"You're telling me," Bucky said, turning off the shower. He helped Natasha out, and stood her on the bathmat while he dried her as best her could and dressed her as gently as possible. There was nothing romantic or sexy about it. Natasha could hardly stand and was burning up. "Come on," he said, and led her to the bedroom. Natasha collapsed on the bed. Bucky pulled back the blankets and lifted up Natasha's feet.

"I'm gunna call… someone. You're not well, and I don't know what to do."

Natasha curled up and closed her eyes. Bucky pulled his phone out of his pocket.

 **9 Missed Calls: Clint Barton**

 **4 Unread Messages:**

 **Clint Barton: CALL ME DAMMIT (17:26)**

 **Clint Barton: BARNES PICK UP YOUR PHONE (17:24)**

 **Clint Barton: Why aren't you answering? You just mes… (17:20)**

 **Clint Barton: I'm not leaving a voicemail. Call me. You… (17:18)**

"What the hell," Bucky mumbled, unlocking his phone and calling Clint. "Clint, what - "

 _"_ _NATASHA DOES NOT GET SICK!"_ Clint yelled. _"SHE'S LIKE YOU AND STEVE. SHE DOES NOT GET SICK."_

"Clint, shit man, you don't have to…"

 _"_ _WHERE IS SHE?"_

"In bed, and - "

 _"_ _SHE DOESN'T GET SICK. SHE - "_

"That Clint?" Natasha mumbled.

"Yeah," Bucky said, as Clint continued raving.

"I - think he's right…" Natasha breathed.

Bucky swallowed. "Me too."

"Buck? It - it's kinda hard to breath in…"

"Yeah. Yeah, you're not well. Hey Clint?"

 _"_ _YOU SHOULD KNOW - "_

"Stop shouting," Bucky said, putting on his Captain America voice. "Nat can't breath. What do I do?"

 _"_ _Take. Her. To. The damned. Hospital."_

"Do I call an ambulance, or - "

 _"_ _What?"_

"It's peak hour in New York City."

 _"_ _Aww Bucky,"_ Clint sighed, his anger disappearing. _"It is too. Damn. I'm in LA. Ok. Umm. Wait there. Keep her alive."_

"What are you doing?"

 _"_ _Making a call. Maybe two. Hopefully only one and he actually answers."_

"Sorry about that…"

 _"_ _Whatever. Keep her alive."_ Clint hung up.

Bucky flicked the volume back on, and put his phone back into his pocket. He knelt down beside Natasha. He took her hand, which was all sweaty. Natasha squeezed his hand as she fought to breathe. "Hang in there, honey," Bucky said. "Clint - oh god, Clint Barton is the one working this for us. Natasha please, please hold on," Bucky knew he was rambling, but couldn't stop himself. "I - Clint said he's got this. I have no idea what that means. This is actually possibly very poor on my behalf, putting any trust in Clint. Not sure I've done this before this - "

"Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky swore and sprung to his feet. "Who the hell - " He raced out to the living room and came face-to-face with an unexpected, though not entirely unwelcome visitor. "Strange."

"Barnes. Barton called. Said it was urgent. Believe me, I understand NYC traffic."

"Oh god. Clint actually came through."

"Where's the patient?"

"In here," Bucky said, showing Doctor Strange into the bedroom. "Can you help her?"

"No," Strange said, taking Natasha's arm and feeling for her pulse.

Bucky's eyes widened and his stomach turned.

"I mean I can't help her because I don't know what's causing this," Strange explained. He placed a hand on Natasha's forehead. "Besides, I'm a surgeon. I'd say her temperature is close to 104. Heart rate elevated, breathing laboured. Get a shirt, it's time to go."

"Get a - what?"

"Shirt," Strange said, "I'm sure there's a perfectly logical reason as to why you're not wearing one, but in public they're generally required."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Bucky said, grabbing a hoody off the chair in the corner of the bedroom which doubled as a sort of wardrobe. He was going to clean it up later that evening, before Natasha was due home. She hated him leaving his clothes lying around. Despite the situation, he found himself wondering what she'd make of the mess in the bathroom.

"Pick her up, will you?" Strange said. "I need both hands for this next part."

Bucky raced around to the side of the bed and scooped Natasha up. She was and tense and held so tightly onto Bucky's hoodie that her knocks went white. Strange held his arms out and created a portal straight into the Emergency Room.

The hospital staff were undoubtedly startled at their sudden appearance, but Strange began giving orders and the staff responded. Natasha was peeled from Bucky's arms and placed on a bed. Everyone was speaking fast and Bucky only understood parts of the medical jargon.

"Hey, Strange, what - "

"Wait here," Strange said.

"No, but what - "

An orderly wheeled the bed away.

"Wait, Natasha…"

"Stay here," Strange ordered.

"What's going on? Hey! What? Tell me what - Get off - "

Doctor Strange's cloak wrapped itself around Bucky and held him back as the Doctor and medical team took Natasha through a set of doors and out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey."

Bucky looked to his left and saw Steve sitting beside him. "Hi," he said, his voice sounding far away. "When did you get here?"

"Just sat down," Steve said. "I came as quickly as I could. I was on my way before I was off the phone to Clint, who was on his way to LAX. He said Kate had everything under control. She'd wanted to come too, but then we'd end up with the whole West Coast squad over here, and they just get annoying."

"Huh," Bucky said.

Steve looked at him. "Why are you wearing Strange's cloak?"

Bucky looked down at the cloak. "I'm not. It's holding onto me and won't let go. It forced me to sit down. I think - right now it's like a security blanket or weighted comfort blanket or whatever you want to call it and kind of weird and annoying but, I think it's sentient? Like, it knows I need… I dunno… Did anything I just say make sense?"

Steve gave an encouraging smile. "Just fine. Heard anything?"

"Nope. The cloak is the only thing stopping me from tearing this place apart to find her and figure out what's going on."

Steve gave a nod and looked up at the ceiling. "Never feel as helpless as in times like these…"

Bucky sighed. He looked around the waiting room at the other families and friends waiting for news of their loved ones. Surely this was what hell was like. Fluorescent lighting, crappy plastic chairs, out of date magazines, fake flowers, smells of vomit, piss, cleaning chemicals and death, and the horrible, strangling, crippling feeling in your stomach and chest as you waited.

"Oh, you're kidding me," Bucky mumbled as the electronic doors opened.

"What? Oh, sorry," Steve said, "I called him and…"

"Never mind," Bucky sighed. "At least now _everyone_ will know."

"Right, what have we heard?" Tony asked, approaching Bucky and Steve.

"Nothing," Bucky said flatly. "I haven't seen or heard from anyone since they disappeared through that door however long ago it was."

"About half an hour," Steve said, "Maybe a little longer."

Bucky shrugged.

"I've got Hank McCoy, Bobbi Morse and Reed Richards on stand-by. I can't get hold of Strange - "

"He's already here," Bucky said, gesturing to the cloak.

"Oh," Tony said, "Excellent. So he'll be informed. As soon as we can get bloods and - "

"Tony, what…?"

"Nat doesn't get sick," Tony said. "I've spoken to Clint. He was in traffic trying to get to LAX."

"We know."

"So if she is sick, it's either some kind of super-virus that could have the potential of wiping out the human race, and given that Nat's been on an international flight in the very recent past, that's a very scary thought."

"Or?" Steve said.

"She's been poisoned."

"She's careful," Bucky said.

"Careful?" Tony said, "Closer to paranoid. But if it is poison, we need to know what it is. There are also other options but I haven't had time to think of them yet. Did you say it's been half an hour? Nah, to slow. We need those now. Why would they take that long? Trying to stabilise her? Geez, that's slow. No, this is something else. Right, I'm finding Strange," Tony said, standing up. "You two wait here."

"I couldn't move if I tried," Bucky said dryly as the cloak seemed to hold him tighter.

…

Bucky sat by the side of the bed on a chair that creaked loudly every time he adjusted his weight. Everything in the high dependency unit flashed and beeped and buzzed and clicked and all Bucky could do was sit there and wait. He forced himself to breathe, to sit still, to try and meditate. He'd gotten quite good at meditating, but now everything was gone and he just wanted to scream.

Natasha lay on the bed in front of him, a whole lot of machinery keeping her stable, but nothing making her better. He'd seen her hurt before, but never like this. She looked grey, and Bucky tried to convince himself that was due to the lighting. He wanted to hold Natasha's hand, but she looked so fragile and he was afraid he'd hurt her.

Somehow Stark had managed to cut through miles of hospital red tape to get the samples he needed to rush to his science buddies so they could figure out what the problem was and how to fix it. Strange (and his cloak) had gone with Tony.

"Two servings of Number 25 with chicken," Steve said, entering the ward.

"Are we allowed to eat in here?" Bucky asked.

"Don't know," Steve said, "But the nurses are all falling over the fact that Captain America is wandering around their floor, and honestly, I don't think it could make things much worse."

Bucky took the take-away container Steve was holding out to him. "I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat anyway."

"I actually feel kinda sick. As in - panic-sick, not - not like Natasha-sick…"

Steve sighed and opened his container. He pulled a pair of chopsticks out of the bag and gave the meal a mix. "I feel the same, Buck. Still gotta eat."

Bucky slowly picked his way through the meal, trying to concentrate on the food, and not on Natasha lying in front of them. Every so often a nurse would come in an check something, then leave again without a word.

"Clint should be on the plane by now," Steve said.

"Yep," said Bucky. He didn't feel like talking. He didn't know if he really wanted Steve to be here, let alone Clint. Clint was even more useless. They fell silent as they finished their meals, each knowing there was nothing they could say to help.

"STEROIDS!"

Steve and Bucky jumped, each waking from their own daydreams.

"We need someone who can give permission to administer medications, and someone who is trained in the administration there of, pronto!" Tony stepped through the temporary portal Strange had created from his lab to the hospital ward, with Strange right behind him.

"Steroids?" Bucky asked, the chair creaking as he sat up straight.

"Hydrocortisone," Strange said. "Oh good, she's already got an IV in."

"The tests Strange and I have been running show that this doesn't seem to make the problem any worse," Tony said, pulling up a graph on his iPad which made no sense to Bucky or Steve. "But they should help her body fight."

"Lotta 'seem' and 'should' in there, Stark," Steve said.

"We've had about two hours, Captain," Strange said, "Our task was to find a way to help in the short term. Tony's explanations are simplified to the extreme, but, you get the idea. Bobbi, Hank and Reed are trying to figure out what it is, and how it ended up inside Natasha."

"Less jibber-jabber, more finding someone with the drugs," Tony said, stalking out of the ward with Strange hot on his heels.

"Is it just me, or did the cloak just wave at you?"

"I think the cloak just waved at me," Bucky said, sinking back into the chair. "You think this will work?"

Steve shrugged. "Right now, I'd say anything's worth a try. You should go home once they've got the meds connected. Get some rest. I doubt she'll wake tonight."

Bucky shook his head. "The only thing keeping me from destroying everything is staying in this room. I can't punch anything in here, because it could hurt Natasha. But I leave - everything's fair game. Plus our apartment is mess. Clothes and towels and stuff everywhere. And - and I already know I won't be able to sleep. Not when…"

"Do you need me to go an clean your place?"

Bucky looked sheepish. "Could you?"

"Course," Steve said, "Gives me something to do. Though I'm not leaving til Clint gets here."

"You're going to clean my house in the middle of the night?"

Steve shrugged, "Not like I'll be able to sleep either."

"Don't touch our weapons cache. Oh, you'll have to feed the cat."

"Cat food still under the sink?"

"The dry food is. The wet food is on the bottom shelf of the pantry."

The doors opened and Tony, still waving around his iPad, Strange, and a bevy of hospital staff entered. Steve and Bucky moved their chairs out of the way.

"Please be gentle…" Bucky said, staring at the floor, afraid that the others may have heard his voice crack.


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha exhaled loudly and opened her eyes. "Wha…?"

"Nat!" Bucky exclaimed, leaping up from his chair. "Don't try to move," he said, patting her hair. "I mean, you can if you really want, and I can put the bed up an bit if that's what you'd like, but we might need to check with the doctors first. Actually, I think I'm meant to buzz them now you're awake."

"W - what happened?" Natasha asked. She tried to sit up, but found her body to be unobliging. Everything felt like lead.

"We don't know," Bucky answered.

Natasha uncurled her fingers and Bucky took her hand. She looked at the IV tubes in her arm, and the oximeter on her finger. "Well this sucks," she breathed. "Everything hurts."

"Yeah. I mean, I guess so…"

"Kinda feel like I wanna be sick…"

"Oh, umm, well you're currently being fed by a tube, and - "

"But I've got nothing left… to throw up," Natasha finished. Her throat and mouth felt sore, and it was an effort to open her mouth to speak.

"Oh. Ok, good." Bucky said.

"What… day is it?"

"Friday morning. You came home on Wednesday night."

"Huh," Natasha said, wishing she could rub her eyes. "You look like… shit…" Natasha mumbled.

Bucky chuckled and found the need to blink back tears. "Yeah, well, you can't talk."

"I'm in a… hospital bed, with… tubes in me," she said, and tried to smile. "I'm allowed."

Bucky nodded. "You had me so worried."

"What - what was it?" Natasha asked.

"Huh?"

"What happened?"

"We don't know," Bucky said, gently caressing Natasha's hand with his thumb. "Tony's - well, he's reasonably calm and collected when he actually comes here, but I think he's pretty mad. He's used to pressing a button and _é voilà_ , there's the answer. But it's not working. Nothing," Bucky sighed, and shook his head, "Science team are just coming up with nothing."

Natasha looked at Bucky.

"Guess you want the long version?" Bucky asked.

"I got… nothing better to do," Natasha said.

Bucky chuckled despite the situation, "So - "

"Ms Romanov, you're awake," a doctor said, entering Natasha's room, followed by a small medical team. "Now that you're awake, we just need to do a few quick tests. Now - "

"Go get a coffee," Natasha said to Bucky, ignoring the doctor.

"But - "

"I'll be right here," she said, "Right, doc?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, right. Right here. Now - "

"Go," Natasha said. "That's… an order, soldier," she mumbled, giving a half smile.

Bucky kissed her on the forehead and left her room, trying to remain as composed as possible. He forced himself to breathe. She was safe. She wasn't going anywhere. One of the nurses at would have seen them talking. This was normal. Routine. Safe. Get a coffee. Message Clint and Steve and Tony. Natasha was safe.

The hospital was remarkably well signed, and Bucky easily found his way to the cafeteria. He ordered a coffee and banana bread (Steve had brought him two McMuffins, an apple, and coffee at the crack of dawn). Bucky sat down to eat, flicking through a copy of yesterday's paper which had been left behind before sending a message to the others, letting them know Natasha was awake.

Having forced himself to take his time, Bucky got back to Natasha's room half an hour later. Her bed had been propped up, and she had a little more colour in her cheeks.

"You changed your hospital gown," Bucky said, drawing his seat up beside her bed.

"Why James, with those observation skills, we'll make a super-spy of your yet."

Bucky chuckled, "Well, small blue diamond-pattern is more your style than grey spots."

"Thanks?" Natasha said.

"You look better," Bucky said, "And you sound better too."

"I ate green jello," Natasha said, "Or more accurately, the nurse fed me green jello, because my arms feel like concrete and I have no motor control. Oh, I got a score of 15."

"Out of?"

"I don't know. The doctor said that was pretty good, though. But then he said I was a 'special case' and they don't really know what to expect with me. Also he wasn't actually talking to me when he said that, but I heard. I think he's the token jerk-doctor."

"Oh," Bucky said, making a mental note to report that to Tony.

"And I nearly vomited when they raised the bed. When I retched, the doctor jumped."

"Was that before or after the jello?"

"Before. I felt less sick after I ate."

Bucky took Natasha's hand. "I'm so relieved."

"You really do look pretty shit. And you need a shave."

"At least I could shower in your private ensuite over there once you were moved in here. Steve brought me clean clothes."

"You haven't been home?"

Bucky shrugged. "Steve's been looking after our place. I - you nearly died on me, Natasha. And it wasn't like you'd been shot or stabbed or something where I know what to do to help. You were just - burning up. I've seen healthier looking corpses. And - "

"What happened?" Natasha said. "From when I got home til now."

Bucky held her hand and recounted the tale; Natasha coming home, the frantic phone call from Clint, Strange's assistance, Steve's arrival, Tony meddling, Clint flying in. All the medical jargon than Strange and Tony and the staff at the hospital spoke which Tony very calmly translated for Bucky and Steve. Natasha had been deemed well enough to be moved from the high dependency unit to an ordinary ward the previous evening, but three words that kept popping up "We don't know…".

Natasha tried to take it all in, but her head felt fuzzy and she looked blankly at Bucky. "I don't remember how I got home."

"What?"

"How did I get from the airport to our place? I - I don't - I think I remember boarding the plane. But I've been on a lot of planes, so…"

"So you must have been poisoned in Berlin."

"Berlin?"

"You - " Bucky looked at Natasha, "You said you were in Berlin."

"Honey," Natasha said, "I don't remember getting home. I don't remember you showering me, or Strange bringing me to hospital. But I'm pretty sure that I haven't been to western Europe for months."

"So, perhaps you did drink the water?"

Natasha furrowed her brow. "I think it's best to assume that everything I said at home was gibberish."

"Right, yeah," Bucky said, "So where were you?"

Natasha looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know," she breathed. "I know I was working. I think. The last really clear thing is… I remember having lunch before I left. Then you drove me to JFK, and dropped me off in the kiss-and-fly area. And I - crap…" Natasha said, feeling panic rising inside her. She'd lost time before, but not for a long time, and not like this. Natasha couldn't say for certain if it was the medication or the lost time or the hospital or the whole situation, but it scared her.

"You can't have been poisoned until the end of your trip," Bucky said, wishing he could scoop Natasha up and hold her in his arms. "And you don't have any injuries, so you weren't beaten up or anything."

"Then why can't I remember what happened? What the hell did they do to me?"

Bucky grabbed a tissue and gently wiped Natasha's eyes. "We're gunna figure it out, ok? You and me and science team. And Steve and Clint. You're awake and on the mend and we're gunna figure it out. I promise, Nat. I promise."


	4. Chapter 4

"I've brought coffee!" Tony announced gleefully, letting himself into Natasha and Bucky's apartment.

"Since when did you have a key?" Natasha asked, muting the TV as Tony closed the door behind himself.

"I created the lock," Tony said as way of explanation, walking over to the couch and handing Natasha one of the cups. "Nice to see you out of a hospital gown," he smiled, sitting down beside her.

Natasha had been discharged from hospital the previous afternoon, two days after waking up. The medical team had decided it was best to let her finish her convalescence as an out-patient. "It's nice to be out of one. This is gunna sound weird, and I'm sure I'll never say it again, so savour this moment, but can we talk about you for a minute?"

"Are you sure you're feeling better?" Tony teased.

Natasha pulled a face. "I just - since I woke up in hospital the other day, every conversation has been about me. There's a bout half a dozen people who want to know anything that goes in or comes out of my body. I know I look terrible. Yes, of course I still feel like crap. My body spent a few hours fighting like hell to purge itself of whatever the heck that poison was, and I have returned from some very physically demanding missions not feeling half this wrecked. Of course it was good to sleep in my own bed last. I didn't realise how much I missed it. And my own clothes. I showered when I got home, but I still reckon I smell like the hospital. So please talk about yourself. Please. One monologue."

Tony chuckled. "Ok. Portable coffee cups."

"Is this a pitch?"

"Like the one you're holding. I'd never sell these to the general public. Suit-compatible, and you can criticise me all you like for having trust issues, but I am never giving away an ounce of that tech."

Natasha looked at the red and gold coffee cup in her hand. "Does this mean you built cup holders into your suit? And you came here in a suit?"

"Morning traffic is appalling, and I was not taking the train."

"Tony Stark on the subway. Now that would be a sight."

"I have found it very hard to get a decent cup of coffee when I'm out. I refuse to pay five dollars for luke-warm bath water in a foam mug served to me by some unwashed, unshaven Brooklyn hipster. Naturally, I have my own coffee roaster, grinder and blender at home. I can make my ideal beverage in one of these cups, which keeps it at the perfect temperature for at least three hours."

"Only three hours?"

"Theoretically it would keep it hot as long as the battery held out, vis: days, depending on other suit functions, but the milk in the coffee would become a little less trustworthy. Excellent for black or green tea, though."

"So, you, Tony Stark, invented a fancy thermos."

"It's suit-compatable."

"It's a fancy thermos," Natasha teased. "Got to admire the colour scheme, though. Everyone likes a bit of gold on their Keep-Cup. Buck and I have a few in the cupboard. I like my glass one with the hot pink lid. Could you make me one of these in hot pink? And one in black, for when I'm in the field."

Tony pouted. "It's not a Keep-Cup. It will keep your drink hot at your exact preferred temperature for - "

"Fancy thermos, I got it," Natasha laughed. "Choose another topic. You usually can't stop talking about yourself. Look, this is the first time I haven't had Bucky hovering over me since I got back from wherever I went and I want rambling science-talk distraction. It's that, or _House Hunters International_."

"What city are they in? We got time for both. Barnes and Cap will be enjoying their casual sprint for another hour," Tony said.

"Please stop stalking us. It's getting weird."

"But I brought you coffee."

"That you did," Natasha said, "And I appreciate it, I've said that. Ok, if you're not gunna talk, let's cut to the chase. You're only here because you have some motive."

"Can't I just visit an ailing friend and bring coffee?"

"If your name was Steve Rogers, sure. If you were Clint, you would have raided my cupboard for instant coffee."

"Fine, you got me," Tony said, pretending to be disappointed. "You want the good news or the bad first?"

"Whatever order makes the most narrative sense," Natasha said, sipping at the coffee.

"Ok, good news first."

"Great."

"I am sending you and Barnes on an all-expenses paid week-long holiday to my very own private island in the Caribbean. My private plane will depart first thing tomorrow morning, or, rather, as soon as you two are ready, which I assume will be first thing as you're both notorious early risers, however in your current condition, I've allowed for some deviation."

Natasha raised her eyebrows.

"You will be accompanied by a private chef, private security, private housekeeping, private medical team including physio and masseuse - "

"No."

"It's a non-negotiable offer."

"Tony, I have a very busy schedule lined up of daytime TV and hospital appointments."

"Both of which you can do on my island. When did you last see the sun? Lounge about? Go for a swim? You need a break."

"I'll be fine."

"But you'll be fine quicker if you go. You can't currently walk unaided in a straight line. You clearly didn't brush your hair this morning. You look like you've had the flu for a month."

Natasha sighed. "Bucky had to help me get dressed," she confessed. "But I'll - "

"Barnes needs a break too. Away from hospitals and the like."

"Agreed on that," Natasha said, "But we can go in a month or so."

"Go now."

"Why do you want to get rid of us?"

"I - what? No. Dammit, Natasha, why do you have to… Look, I'm genuinely trying to do something nice. In a week you'll be right as rain, but why spend it here in dreary weather and over-bleached hospitals when you can receive the same care in the sun on my island?"

Natasha sighed. "I'll talk to James," she conceded.

"You'll love it," Tony grinned.

Natasha smiled and shook her head. "We'll see. Ok, the bad news?"

Tony sighed and sipped his coffee. "I hate these words: We don't know. We don't know what it was, who did it, where they did it. It's like the worst game of Cluedo ever. Cluedo with no clues."

"Well, what do you know?" Natasha asked, getting a bit sick of the phrase herself.

"You were poisoned."

"Good start. But was it by Colonel Mustard in the kitchen, or Mrs White in the billiard room?"

Tony chuckled at Natasha's black humour. "Probably in the dining room, with a cocktail of poisons, given your symptoms."

"Great. Do you reckon it a martini glass or a tall glass with a tiny umbrella?"

"For you, shot glass, nice and concentrated," Tony teased, "But being serious, it was most likely given orally. You were examined in hospital and there were no marks that would indicate a needle or dart or similar. Generally speaking, drugs taken orally take longer to kick in than those given intravenously."

"How much longer?"

Tony shrugged. "Considering your physiology and 'regular' internal chemical composition, minutes compared to instantly, depending on the drug? But the body has better chance at fighting if it takes in something nasty orally. The immune system knows that something's wrong, tells your brain, and the brain slams on the emergency brake, which usually means you vomit, only you didn't…"

"And you don't know why?"

"Precisely."

Natasha leant back into the couch. "I must have been poisoned here, in New York. Not - wherever I was."

"What flight were you on?" Tony asked.

Natasha raised her eyebrows.

"I'm asking the wrong person?" Tony suggested.

"You're asking the wrong person. I was probably using an alias, but I don't know. I don't know where I was or what I was doing. How did I lose a week, Tony?"

Tony shook his head. "There are tonnes of drugs that can cause amnesia. And even though we got samples from you almost immediately, your super-system was already fighting like hell against the poison, and we could find traces of it at best. And as time went on, it seemed to disappear, even from the early samples. So whether that was all the chemicals in your system or the poison just dissolving, we don't know. Argh, this is so frustrating."

"You're telling me," Natasha said. "So what you're really saying is that this could be anything from Mossad's latest and greatest assassination drug, or backroom Bob with his kid's chemistry set and a mix of over-the-counter drugs."

"Essentially, yes. Should we be concerned about Mossad?"

"No," Natasha said, "Don't look so concerned. We came to a mutual understanding after the Alexandria Incident."

"The what?!"

"Never mind," Natasha said, "So I'm guessing this is bad because without knowing what the poison was, you can't trace it back to whoever created it."

"Exactly. It may have put your body through the wringer, but I am glad it didn't scramble your brains."

"That makes two of us," Natasha said, raising her coffee and taking a drink.


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky and Natasha were enjoying their third afternoon on Tony's private island. They joked that it was really just a pile of sand with a couple of palm trees and a fancy house, but the luxury was undeniable. The lifestyle was very easy to get used to too. Each day was loosely scheduled around Natasha's appointments with the assortment of medical professionals flown in to keep an eye on her, the physio was more than happy to recommend simple activities, swimming and short walks, this morning being the first time Natasha had walked the whole 1400 meters around the perimeter of the island, and the kitchen team (including nutritionist) meant that every meal was perfectly balanced, as well as delicious.

After the walk, a mocktail and a lounge on the deckchairs on the beach with their respective books was in order. Bucky was catching up on his backlog of _Saga_ and _Batman_ trades, while Natasha was happily binge-reading _Crazy Rich Asians_. Natasha finished a chapter, closed the book and put it aside. Since arriving, they'd spoken little of what had happened, making the most of being alone together on Tony's island, allowing the real world to wait until they returned. But just because they hadn't spoken much of the previous week, didn't mean they hadn't been thinking about it.

Natasha looked across at Bucky. It was easier for him here. He happily went around in just his board-shorts, never self-conscious about his arm, ever-aware that anywhere else it was as good as a flashing neon sign saying "Here's The Winter Soldier!". They knew all too well they couldn't save one another from their pasts, and their futures weren't exactly set in stone either.

"What?" Bucky said, closing his _Batman_ trade.

"Nothing," Natasha said.

Bucky sighed. "We've had 72 hours here. Someone's gotta say something, or we're both going to explode."

"I don't know if I'm getting fuzzy memories or if my imagination is playing tricks on me because I can't stand this whole situation, but what if we're looking at it all back-to-front?" Natasha said, grateful to have been given the all-clear to speak freely.

"What do you mean?"

"What if it wasn't about me?"

"Well, you seemed to be pretty well targeted…"

"But why?" Natasha asked, "If whoever it was wanted me dead, then there's easier ways than mystery poison that didn't even work. I don't think it was an assassination attempt. I think, maybe…I don't know."

"Yes you do," Bucky encouraged.

Natasha took a deep breath. "What if it wasn't about me, but about us. All of us. Me, you, Steve, Tony, Clint. Strange, even. Because by poisoning me - "

Bucky sat up properly and swung his feet onto the sand. "It took all of us off the playing field for days."

"Exactly," Natasha said. "Like you've said, if I'd been shot or stabbed or had the crap beaten out of me - well, you can all deal with that. You _have_ dealt with that. It sucks, but it's a fairly straightforward patch'n'go. No need to get science team involved, using all their resources. No reason for Clint to fly across the country, all in a tizz. But this? This took everyone's eye off the ball."

"It was a red herring?"

"I don't know. Maybe. It's just a theory, but - "

"It's worth telling the others," Bucky said. "Because if something happened, something we otherwise would have been there to stop or help with…"

"You read my mind, Barnes," Natasha said. "But there's something else. You said when I came home I was talking gibberish. I kept changing my story."

"You were pretty out of it…"

"But what if I was just holding on? If that was the last of my sanity…"

"Are you remembering something?"

"I don't know," Natasha said, sick of that phrase, "But what if parts of whatever I was on about were right? If somehow, I was trying to tell you something. Old spy training; say what you have to say before you drop dead."

"You said you drank the water…" Bucky said. "You knew you'd been poisoned, and Tony has said that it makes sense that you took it orally."

"What else did I say?" Natasha asked.

"Ahh," Bucky thought for a moment. "You said you were in Germany. And a couple of places in Italy. And somewhere in France, but you couldn't remember the name. You were getting mixed up between Genoa and Geneva, but neither of them are in France."

"La Grenouille. On 52nd and 3rd."

"What?"

"It's a fancy French restaurant," Natasha said, "We've been before, but I - I think…"

"You were trying to tell me you were at a fancy French restaurant?"

"Maybe? Call it a gut feeling. We'll get Tony to check the CCTV in the area," Natasha said, "If I was there, we'll know who I was with. We might see them spike the water. Did I say anything else?"

"You were pretty insistent that you'd been to Germany. Otherwise just complaining you felt sick and tired."

Natasha pursed her lips. "I don't get motion sick…"

"You don't get ordinary-sick either, but here we are."

Natasha chuckled. "Getting poisoned doesn't count. Let's call Tony and see if he can get the CCTV footage."

…

It wasn't until after they'd enjoyed a lovely dinner of seafood tacos, more mocktails (there was no alcohol on the island), gourmet chocolate truffles, and a spectacular sunset that an email arrived from Tony. The subject was simply "Video", and the contents read "Call me once you've watched it".

"Maybe your week wasn't as lost as you think," Tony said, opening the video.

"Let's watch and see," Natasha said, snuggled beside him on the over-sized king bed. The somewhat grainy black-and-white CCTV footage began to play.

"Aww man, there's nearly half an hours worth," Bucky said. "Can't we get the edited version?"

"Do you think we could get popcorn?" Natasha asked. Bucky chuckled.

Natasha appeared on the footage a few seconds later and went to a table that was somewhat obscured from view due to the angle of the camera, shadows and positioning of the table. There were three men at the table, all with drinks, and a basket of bread in the middle. A waiter brought a glass of wine for Natasha. One of the men with his back to the camera spoke to the waiter, who returned with four glasses and a jug of water. The man who had ordered the glasses poured the water for each of the members at the table.

"Do you recognise any of them?" Bucky asked.

"I don't know," Natasha said, feeling a peculiar sense of deja-vu, almost as though the scene they were watching had previously played out in a distant, half-remembered dream.

The party of four sat at the table, sipping their wine and water. The two men with their backs to the camera ate the bread.

"I wish there was sound," Bucky mumbled. "And it's probably too pixilated to ask Clint to try lip reading."

"You can only see my mouth properly anyway, and I don't seem to be saying much," Natasha said.

Bucky wrapped his arm around her, and they kept watching the silent footage. "Is this nearly finished - WOAH. OH SHIT!"

"Oh, no," Natasha said, having a bad feeling she knew what happened next, and that Bucky was not going to take it well. In the footage, the man with his back to the camera who had ordered the water had reached across the table and dropped something into Natasha's water glass. He picked up the glass and swirled it, then put it back in front of her.

"Natasha, what the hell?" Bucky breathed.

Natasha felt as stomach tightening as in the footage, she and the three men continued talking for another minute. Then she picked up the glass and sculled the water.

Bucky cursed loudly. Natasha grabbed the iPad before he could throw it away.

"Calm down and keep watching," she ordered.

"Natasha, you - "

"Keep. Watching."

A moment later in the footage, Natasha stood up, the man beside her taking her arm. As they walked towards the exit, and the camera, Natasha got a good look at his face.

"No…"

"Natasha, why…"

The camera angle changed, and they watched as the man put Natasha into one cab, then got a second one for himself. The cabs disappeared. The footage stopped.

Natasha put down the iPad. "James," she began, but wasn't sure what to say.

Bucky shook his head and moved aside. "What the hell was that?" he said between gritted teeth.

"I don't know, but…"

"You were all looking pretty chummy, Nat. You drank whatever was in your glass with no worries."

"James…"

"You sure you're working for the right people, Natasha? Sure you haven't jumped ship?"

"Hey!" Natasha snapped, "That's outta line. Dammit, James, didn't you recognise the man I walked out with? They were clearly some messed up negotiations, but we _both_ walked out."

"Give me that," Bucky said, reaching across Natasha and taking the iPad. He found the place on the footage where he could most clearly see the man's face. Bucky's eyes went wide. "Natasha…"

"It would have killed him," Natasha said, feeling hot, angry tears sting her eyes. "Whatever that concoction was, it would have killed him."

Bucky put the iPad down and looked at Natasha, knowing she was more concerned for her companion in the footage than for herself. "What the hell are you and Matt Murdock caught up in?"


	6. Chapter 6

Natasha and Bucky had Tony on the phone almost immediately after they finished watching the film of Natasha in the restaurant. Tony didn't need to be asked twice to arrange their transport, and they had arrived back in New York around 5 o'clock, just in time to sit in the evening rush-hour traffic. Before their flight, Natasha had called Matt, but he'd been sketchy with details on the phone, hinting that he may be being listened to. They arranged to meet once she was back in town, in costume, which Bucky had been less than happy about when he saw Natasha gearing up.

"Can't you just go to a bar or something?" Bucky asked.

"Last time we did that, I ended up drinking mystery-poison," Natasha said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, right. You're banned from drinks with Murdock for life."

Natasha chuckled. "I'll call you if things go sideways."

"Please do, because I'll be right here, washing out our bathers."

"You make that sound so hot," Natasha said, sliding up close to him.

Bucky blushed, and rested his hands on the small of her back. "Come back fast, ok?"

"Oh, I have no intention of hanging out with Matty any longer than necessary. Besides, it looks like rain, and I don't want to get sick again."

The wind on the rooftop was colder than she had expected. Try though she might, there was no sneaking up on Matt Murdock, and he turned towards her as she approached. "We good to talk up here?" Natasha asked, "Because I've got a lot of questions, starting with why didn't you - "

"You came here to hear me out, so damn well let me talk," Matt snapped. "The one time I actually show a little bit of self-preservation you do not get to jump down my throat."

Natasha folded her arms, feeling defensive. The whole situation seemed to be touching a nerve with Matt.

Natasha pursed her lips. "Why did I drink that stuff? Why didn't you stop me?"

"Let me start at the start," Matt sighed, removing his mask. "You know, we tend to get along better when one of us is on a different continent, and/or nearly dead."

"Well, I was nearly dead last week, and I don't recall seeing you pop by."

"I - ugh," Matt sighed. "It's not that easy. I - I am glad you're not dead, Nat. Really."

"Thanks," Natasha said. "With the pleasantries out of the way, time for the story? I've got a cosy warm bed waiting for me at home."

"I bet you do," Matt said, raising his eyebrows. "I - about a month ago I noticed suspicious activity at one of the warehouses down by the docks. It hadn't been empty for long, but all the cargo was arriving at night, and it was arriving fast. Crates of stuff, plus the occasional shipping container. I had a bad feeling about it, and watched from the shadows for a couple of days. The guards outside the warehouse were just hired help, they didn't know what was being stored there - "

"Because you asked them forcefully?"

"Naturally," Matt smirked.

"And what has this got to do with me?"

"Just wait a moment. It meant that whoever it was stashing their gear suddenly found themselves served notice from their legitimate security company that due to unforeseen dangers, they'd no longer be providing services. So the next lot of security were not clean-cut. I decided that Daredevil had done all he could, but little anonymous tip-off to Homeland Security later, and for 24 hours the entire docks was crawling with the entire alphabet; DHS, FBI, CIA, TSA, DEA, NYPD, US Marshals. It didn't take much to realise that this was big and everyone wanted a piece of the pie."

"What was it?"

"Just your standard illegal military-grade weapons smuggling operation."

"Cool story. I'm glad you're not bored."

"I can taste your sarcasm, Natasha."

"You got a big win and I got poisoned. What's the connection?"

"It wasn't much reported on here, but the international press seemed a little more keen. There was a snippet done by Al Jazeera, and you just happened to catch it on TV on while you were in Berlin. You put two and two together, and realised it was me. We had a really nice chat; it's not often that I get to debrief like that. Like I said, having a whole body of water between us seems to do wonders."

"So I was in Germany…" Natasha said.

"Huh?"

"I lost a whole week, Matt. Well, most of it, anyway. Somehow, maybe because of all my training, I remembered tiny fragments when I first got home. I don't remember being in Germany, but it feels right that I was. Do you know what I was doing?"

"Not when you first called. But then you called a few days later, from a pay-phone at the airport, and things had gone a bit pear-shaped to say the least. Turns out you'd been hired to track and shut down a weapons smuggling syndicate in a slightly more permanent way than what I'd done. But your employer - and I don't know who that was, so don't ask - had taken you, an outsider, on, knowing full well that these people were not going to play nice once they found out who was taking out their people. Your employer pay you, and, well, pissed off, washing their hands of the whole situation."

"James is not going to take that well," Natasha said, as much to herself as to Matt.

"Ready for the connection?" Matt asked.

"Are our weapons smugglers part of the same syndicate of evil jerks?"

"Those weren't the words I was going to use, but yes."

"But why were you at that meeting at the restaurant? Why was I?"

"That's why you called, to ask me. Earlier that morning, you'd received an encrypted email from the the smuggling ring spokesman, I guess you could call him, with photos of Bucky, Steve Rogers, and Tony Stark, and a not so subtle message saying that unless you got on the next flight back to New York and had a little meeting with them, the boys might find themselves a little worse for wear, if you will. You called me, asking to be your 'lawyer', I agreed, and the spokesmen agreed that I could come. In hindsight, I'm still not sure if it was a great idea on my behalf, but its not often that you ask for help."

Natasha took a deep breath and adjusted her stance. "Why would they target my partner and my friends, but not my two exes?"

"You mean me and Clint?"

Natasha nodded.

Matt shrugged, "Maybe that's just it. We're your exes."

"It's no secret that Clint and I are still buddies."

"It doesn't matter now," Matt said, "They didn't, and that may have saved you."

"How do you mean?"

"Can I go back to the story?"

"By all means."

"You boarded the next flight back to JFK. Pretty sure you were using an alias. You were back in New York by early afternoon. They picked you up from the airport and brought you straight to the restaurant. I arrived about a minute beforehand. When we sat down, there were more photos of Tony, Steve and Bucky already on the table. New ones, from only a couple of hours ago. Having me there meant that they had to explain everything, so it took a little longer than they'd have liked."

"So it was blackmail? Drink that or we'll kill your friends?"

"Not quite," Matt said. "They'd put two and two together and come up with five, having decided that you were behind the tip-off at the New York warehouse, before skipping off to Berlin to continue your work on their European operations. Something about not wanting to get your hands dirty on home soil, but not being worried about your tactics overseas. But then they let something slip, and I have never been so grateful for your poker face."

"What did they let slip? Matt, I don't remember any of this conversation."

"You have to give me a moment to take a breath, Nat."

"Sorry, I just - "

Matt swallowed. "I get it, and I'm getting there. There was another shipment of weapons which would be moving through 'a major port' in the next 24 hours. They were convinced you knew where. If you did, you never told me, and if you didn't, well, you didn't let on."

"I certainly don't now…"

"I know. You were ready to call their bluff on the blackmail and their ability to stop you from stopping the shipment, when we both felt the pistol knock against our legs. The man sitting opposite me, closest to the wall, had a gun under the table.

"Oh, god…" Natasha breathed.

"I think he was trying to figure out which leg was mine and which was yours. Table clothes are handy for hiding weapons from the rest of the crowd - "

"And the CCTV footage - "

"But not so great when you want to be sure you kneecap the right person."

Natasha swore.

"Anyway," Matt continued, "He kindly reminded us that the country would hardly blink at a mass-shooting in a fancy New York restaurant, even if a nice lawyer and the Black Widow were amongst the dead and wounded. I'm sure the weapon was real. You couldn't see it to confirm, but your heartbeat told me you now had no reason to doubt their threats. So we came to a deal, which I think is what they wanted all along. You drink the concoction placed before you, and we all walk out. Refuse, and more than one trigger gets pulled."

"So I drank it," Natasha said.

Matt nodded. "And they were true to their word. We both walked out."

Natasha felt her stomach tighten. She turned to Matt. "Why didn't you do anything? Why didn't you take me home? Tell James what had happened? I could have died, Matt!"

"Because as far as they knew, I was the sucker at Legal Aid who drew the short straw to come and support you."

"Do they really think that Avengers don't have access to private lawyers? You don't even work for Legal Aid!"

"I - I know, Natasha. I don't know what they were thinking, but I did know that they wanted to hurt you. The guy opposite me was so disappointed he didn't get to pull the trigger. He wanted to hear to you scream. But he - they let us leave. And I had the feeling we were both being followed, so even if I had told my cab driver to take the long way to your apartment, they would have known. We were not holding the winning hand, Natasha."

Natasha swallowed. "You still could have helped."

"I did!" Matt exclaimed, "As soon as I got home, I called Clint. I told him I couldn't really explain, but he needed to call Bucky and tell him to get you to hospital immediately. I think he thought I was drunk or high or something, but thank the Lord a minute later he received the text from Bucky saying you were home but unwell. I told him not to mention me or my phone call to anyone, and he didn't. But he - he kept me in the loop. I - I have never been so desperate to receive phone calls from Clint Barton."

Natasha sighed. "So you don't know what they gave me?"

"No," Matt said, "But at a guess, they probably have some drug-smuggling associates, and it was whatever their latest and greatest concoction is."

"Do you think it was supposed to kill me?"

"Yes," Matt confessed, "Or at least have you in a much worse state than you are."

"They didn't factor in all the super-juice running through my system."

"Precisely."

"And now, somewhere in the world, there's a shiny new shipment of illegal weapons being delivered somewhere, and we can't stop it."

Matt sighed. "Sometimes you can do everything right, and still loose."

Natasha shook her head. "No. Not after all that. They do not get away."

"Nat - "

"No. Those men in the restaurant. They're our lead. They do not get away."


End file.
